Driven from Home; Or, Carl Crawford's Experience by Jr. Horatio Alger (golden son ebook TXT) 📖

Carl took the afternoon train on the following day for Buffalo. His thoughts were busy with the startling discovery he had made in regard to his stepmother. Though he had never liked her, he had been far from imagining that she was under the ban of the law. It made him angry to think that his father had been drawn into a marriage with such a woman—that the place of his idolized mother had been taken by one who had served a term at Sing Sing.

Did Peter know of his mother’s past disgrace? he asked himself. Probably not, for it had come before his birth. He only wondered that the secret had never got out before. There must be many persons who had known her as a prisoner, and could identify her now. She had certainly been fortunate with the fear of discovery always haunting her. Carl could not understand how she could carry her head so high, and attempt to tyrannize over his father and himself.

What the result would be when Dr. Crawford learned the antecedents of the woman whom he called wife Carl did not for a moment doubt. His father was a man of very strict ideas on the subject of honor, and good repute, and the discovery would lead him to turn from Mrs. Crawford in abhorrence. Moreover, he was strongly opposed to divorce, and Carl had heard him argue that a divorced person should not be permitted to remarry. Yet in ignorance he had married a divorced woman, who had been convicted of theft, and served a term of imprisonment. The discovery would be a great shock to him, and it would lead to a separation and restore the cordial relations between himself and his son.

Not long after his settlement in Milford; Carl had written as follows to his father:

“Dear Father:—Though I felt obliged to leave home for reasons which we both understand, I am sure that you will feel interested to know how I am getting along. I did not realize till I had started out how difficult it is for a boy, brought up like myself, to support himself when thrown upon his own exertions. A newsboy can generally earn enough money to maintain himself in the style to which he is accustomed, but I have had a comfortable and even luxurious home, and could hardly bring myself to live in a tenement house, or a very cheap boarding place. Yet I would rather do either than stay in a home made unpleasant by the persistent hostility of one member.

“I will not take up your time by relating the incidents of the first two days after I left home. I came near getting into serious trouble through no fault of my own, but happily escaped. When I was nearly penniless I fell in with a prosperous manufacturer of furniture who has taken me into his employment. He gives me a home in his own house, and pays me two dollars a week besides. This is enough to support me economically, and I shall after a while receive better pay.

“I am not in the office, but in the factory, and am learning the business practically, starting in at the bottom. I think I have a taste for it, and the superintendent tells me I am making remarkable progress. The time was when I would have hesitated to become a working boy, but I have quite got over such foolishness. Mr. Jennings, my employer, who is considered a rich man, began as I did, and I hope some day to occupy a position similar to his.

“I trust you are quite well and happy, dear father. My only regret is, that I cannot see you occasionally. While my stepmother and Peter form part of your family, I feel that I can never live at home. They both dislike me, and I am afraid I return the feeling. If you are sick or need me, do not fail to send for me, for I can never forget that you are my father, as I am your affectionate son,

“Carl.”

This letter was handed to Dr. Crawford at the breakfast table. He colored and looked agitated when he opened the envelope, and Mrs. Crawford, who had a large share of curiosity, did not fail to notice this.

“From whom is your letter, my dear?” she asked, in the soft tone which was habitual with her when she addressed her husband.

“The handwriting is Carl’s,” answered Dr. Crawford, already devouring the letter eagerly.

“Oh!” she answered, in a chilly tone. “I have been expecting you would hear from him. How much money does he send for?”

“I have not finished the letter.” Dr. Crawford continued reading. When he had finished he laid it down beside his plate.

“Well?” said his wife, interrogatively. “What does he have to say? Does he ask leave to come home?”

“No; he is quite content where he is.”

“And where is that?”

“At Milford.”

“That is not far away?”

“No; not more than sixty miles.”

“Does he ask for money?”

“No; he is employed.”

“Where?”

“In a furniture factory.”

“Oh, a factory boy.”

“Yes; he is learning the business.”

“He doesn’t seem to be very ambitious,” sneered Mrs. Crawford.

“On the contrary, he is looking forward to being in business for himself some day.”

“On your money—I understand.”

“Really, Mrs. Crawford, you do the boy injustice. He hints nothing of the kind. He evidently means to raise himself gradually as his employer did before him. By the way, he has a home in his employer’s family. I think Mr. Jennings must have taken a fancy to Carl.”

“I hope he will find him more agreeable than I did,” said Mrs. Crawford, sharply.

“Are you quite sure that you always treated Carl considerately, my dear?”

“I didn’t flatter or fondle him, if that is what you mean. I treated him as well as he could expect.”

“Did you treat him as well as Peter, for example?”

“No. There is a great difference between the two boys. Peter is always respectful and obliging, and doesn’t set up his will against mine. He never gives me a moment’s uneasiness.”

“I hope you will continue to find him a comfort, my dear,” said Dr. Crawford, meekly.

He looked across the table at the fat, expressionless face of his stepson, and he blamed himself because he could not entertain a warmer regard for Peter. Somehow he had a slight feeling of antipathy, which he tried to overcome.